


Sunlight and Sugar

by bri_notthecheese



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_notthecheese/pseuds/bri_notthecheese
Summary: A quiet moment before Aragorn's coronation where Sam helps Frodo get ready.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	Sunlight and Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amcdanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amcdanie/gifts).



> A Christmas gift for one of my best friends <3 I forgot to share it here until now ;)

“Mr. Frodo, don’t you think it’s time we ought to be getting ready?”

Sam’s soft voice calls out and pulls Frodo from his reverie. He’d been resting on the cushioned seats near his palace bedroom’s window all afternoon, looking out at the fields below Minas Tirith. The fields that had run red with blood several weeks before. The bodies had been cleared and they’d gotten rain a handful of times since then so the grasses finally seem like new. Mordor’s skies beyond have been nothing but calm as well, not even a hint of the fire, death, and destruction that had been promised and almost inevitable had he and Sam not made it up the slopes of Mount Doom.

Had Sam not carried him…

Nor saved him from himself.

Thanks to him, Middle Earth is slowly starting to heal.

Yet Frodo can’t help but feel as if his entire being is fractured.

“Mr. Frodo?”

Sam’s closer now and the midday sun catches the edges of his red hair, making them appear golden. Frodo’s heart settles just by his presence. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. The time must’ve escaped me,” Frodo admits. It’s been happening a lot more regularly, despite the Ring being destroyed.

“Gandalf assures it’s normal.” Sam places a reassuring hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “It can happen to the best of us, and you’ve been through a lot. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I suppose. I’m glad I have you though, Sam.”

Sam almost seems taken aback, as if it’s not a sentiment Frodo expresses frequently. “You’ll always have me.”

“I know.”

Not unusually, their gaze’s stay locked for more than a few moments before Sam rubs the side of Frodo’s shoulder and offers up a lop-sided smile. “Though we best be getting to it. We don’t wanna be late for Strider’s coronation.”

Frodo nods and wordlessly stands, following Sam over to the spacious wardrobe that appears even vaster from the sparse clothing selection for hobbits.

“I’ll go and grab mine. See if it looks alright.”

Sam brushes past Frodo and departs through the heavy oak door that is a staple of every chamber here. Sam’s room is only down the hall from his, so Frodo presumes he’ll be less than a few minutes.

Having Sam sleep close to him has been a blessing these past two months. It’s strange, almost downright foreign to sleep in comfort again to the point where perhaps it isn’t even comfortable. Frodo has been having a hard time discerning the difference. He hasn’t truly felt at ease since they left the Shire half a year ago.

But with Sam being his only comfort, his only source of warmth and light despite the fog the Ring had cast about his entire perception during their month of travel alone—save for Sméagol—it hadn’t felt right sleeping without him nearby. The Fellowship had probably presumed as much and purposefully placed Sam a few doors down when they arrived in Minas Tirith, but Frodo needed more.

And as always, Sam could sense it.

He snuck into his chambers later that first night and crawled into his bed without a word, only asking, “Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?” before taking his hand beneath the covers.

“I am now, Sam.”

They’d shared the bed every night since then.

Frodo hadn’t asked him to, and he’d never dream of telling him to leave. It feels right in a way that Frodo hadn’t ever considered prior to their journey. Part of him reasons that it’s because of that journey that he’s feeling like this since there’s no one but the two of them that can truly understand what they’d undergone.

Another part of him whispers that it’s more.

That part frightens him.

He’s never experienced feelings like this before. Feelings that speak of more than just friendship. He doesn’t understand what to do with them.

Others made it seem so easy. He’d seen plenty of folk fall in love in the Shire, get married, and have a life together. Frodo simply assumed that it wasn’t in the cards for him. He never looked at other girls the way his friends did.

The way Sam looks at Rosie.

It’s easier to brush off the pangs in his heart as residual effects of the Ring. After all, how could he describe it as heartbreak if his heart had never been broken before?

He’d like to know, though. Not necessarily the heartbreak part, but feeling so full of love because of someone else? It’d be nice.

The door opens again and Frodo immediately refocuses his thoughts on the present.

“Right. So this is what I’ve got.” Sam sports a pair of grey pants, a blue-grey shirt, and a vest that is toeing the line between white and gold. He holds his arms out to present his outfit selection in full. “Reckon I look fancy enough?”

His nervous laughter is apparent and Frodo seeks to reassure him. “You look great. You—” He almost speaks too much, and yet Sam looks so expectant for what Frodo had censored that he has to add, “The colors work nicely with your hair.”

“Oh,” Sam looks away and Frodo delights in bringing a smile to his face. Especially after causing him so many tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“But I do,” Frodo continues to smile, dragging Sam over to the mirror. “You look very handsome.” He runs his hands over Sam’s shoulders to accentuate his point, dropping his gaze towards the shirt under the pretense of smoothing out any wrinkles.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo.” Sam’s cheeks are properly pink now and Frodo can’t help his small sense of satisfaction for causing that reaction. A win is a win, no matter how insignificant it may seem. This feeling is new but Frodo doesn't want to expect anything. He knows where Sam’s feelings lie.

“Now let’s see you spiff on up.”

Frodo almost forgot the reason they were doing all of this. He starts flipping through the limited choices while Sam strolls over to the small table of fruits and pastries and grabs a sweet roll. Frodo continues scanning his options, eventually holding out a brown vest paired with an off-white shirt.

“Sam, what do you think of this?”

“Perfect. Brown always did look good on you. Just get yourself a pair of trousers and you’ll be good to go.”

Between the other options of black or olive, Frodo ends up with the dark brown. Sam continues eating his treat while Frodo moves behind the privacy wall to change into his coronation outfit.

“Feeling nervous for today?” Sam pipes up, his mouth still endearingly full of sweet roll. “I am. I know we’re not even part of the ceremony, but this is a big deal. I’ve never been to such a giant event before.”

“I don’t think any of us have, Sam.”

“No, I suppose you’re right. But still. How are you feeling?”

“…a little numb,” Frodo answers truthfully. After everything they’ve been through, he doesn't wish to lie to Sam. “But I’m happy for Aragorn,” he adds, his voice a bit higher. “He deserves it.”

“Yeah, he seems a good man. Middle Earth could use that, I reckon.”

Frodo hums his agreement as he steps back around the divider in his change of clothes.

“Oh now you see, Mr. Frodo. You don’t look half bad yourself.” Sam rises from the table, brushing a few crumbs from his vest. He steps closer now, concern evident in his face. “But you realize no one would expect you to be there if you aren’t feeling up for it? I could wait with you.”

“I’ll be all right, Sam.”

“You mentioned feeling numb.” Sam’s eyes fall to where Frodo hadn’t buttoned up his shirt entirely. They both know the wound he’s picturing beneath the cloth. “Anything I can do to help? We could make a salve.”

“No, not that kind of numb.” The feeling is quieter with Sam near him, but Frodo can sense its humming just beyond those feelings at the forefront. “It’s more…internal. I still feel as if I’ve lost something and I can never get it back.”

“Oh.”

The two stand there together, the sounds carried in from the window filling the space. The breeze is a gentle one, but it brings the clamor of excitement from around the entire city. The people rejoice for the new age that starts today.

And once again, it feels as if they are alone and separate from everyone else. Them against whatever trials may come their way.

Sam’s eyes search Frodo’s before scanning the rest of him, as if he could better understand the situation just by looking.

“Can I give you a hug?”

Though perhaps he might be the only one who can.

Frodo opens his arms and they’re instantly filled with Sam. His breath and heart stutter simultaneously and Frodo realizes this is the first hug they’ve shared in a long while where danger isn’t an immediate threat. They’ve been close during their shared nights, but oftentimes it’s only their hands that fully touch. Brushing a strand of hair away or a poke of reassurance have been common touches, but nothing so full as this.

Frodo doesn’t want to let go.

And Sam doesn’t. Maybe there’s more time than Sam lets on.

Frodo doesn’t dwell on it as he simply lets go and allows himself to enjoy a sensation other than numbness. To the point where he almost pulls Sam back in when he starts to release his hold.

It puts them at an awkward middle ground.

Too close to be comfortably conversing and yet too far to resume their hug.

Frodo doesn’t think in the next few seconds that follow. He’s too struck by how close they’re standing together. His eyes barely have time to take in the details of Sam’s features before Sam is moving in and pressing their lips together.

Frodo almost forgets to breathe.

He hadn’t even fully put together the pieces of what he wanted before Sam is giving it to him in such a gentle and loving way, and Frodo would be remiss if he did anything other than kiss him back.

Still, it’s unhurried and soft and Frodo can taste the sugar that lingers on Sam’s lips.

It lasts for several blessed moments and Frodo’s arms find their way to Sam’s, both content to simply hold each other in this grounding moment.

When they do part, shy smiles take residence on both of their faces.

“Sam…” Frodo isn’t sure what he wants to say; he just needs him to know how much he cares.

“I know, Mr. Frodo. Me too.”

With anyone else, that might’ve been too vague. But Frodo knows what he means—what he feels—without him needing to elaborate in this moment. The courtyard bells toll and they realize they’ll need to hurry if they want to make it in time.

But Frodo doesn't fret.

They’ll have time to talk later. For now, he’s content with the tingling on his lips and the warmth spreading from Sam’s hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos are always appreciated! ^_^


End file.
